He was aware of the pleasure that he had seen there. So one evening,
as he was returning from his reading, he concluded he would pay a visit
to this enchanting spot. Little did he think of witnessing a shadow
of his former happiness, though no doubt he wished it might be so.
He continued sauntering by the roadside, meditating on the past.
The nearer he approached the spot, the more anxious he became.
At the moment a tall female figure flitted across his path, with a
bunch of roses in her hand; her countenance showed uncommon vivacity,
with a resolute spirit; her ivory teeth already appeared as she
smiled beautifully, promenading--while her ringlets of hair dangled
unconsciously around her snowy neck. Nothing was wanting to complete
her beauty. The tinge of the rose was in full bloom upon her cheek;
the charms of sensibility and tenderness were always her associates..
In Ambulinia's bosom dwelt a noble soul--one that never faded
--one that never was conquered. Her heart yielded to no feeling
but the love of Elfonzo, on whom she gazed with intense delight,
and to whom she felt herself more closely bound, because he sought
the hand of no other. Elfonzo was roused from his apparent reverie.
His books no longer were his inseparable companions--his thoughts
arrayed themselves to encourage him in the field of victory.
He endeavored to speak to his supposed Ambulinia, but his speech
appeared not in words.
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